Saga of Heaven and Earth
by SDWilson
Summary: The nomadic Clan Ryu of Navigators searches for a place amongst the stars as they encounter space marines, squats, xenos, and the forces of Chaos along the way. I CORRECTED A COPY PASTE EDITING ERROR THAT OBLITERATED PARTS OF CHAPTER 4.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

approximately 155.M36  
Space Station _Eyria 3_  
near the galactic core, Segmentum Ultima

The great doors slowly slid open, allowing entrance to the observatorium of the _Eyria 3_ space station. A young boy in white pants and a white shirt, calmly waited behind a tall man also clad entirely in white who wore a curved blade at his side. Immediately upon the great doors fully sliding apart and ceasing to move, the tall man snapped into motion and marched into the observatorium. The young boy nervously marched behind him into the great chamber.

The dome shaped ceiling rose to a great height and granted a view to the star-filled void of the galactic core. Near the middle of the observatorium there was an ancient instrument of the Adeptus Mechanicus. The relic was mounted onto a clockwork device allowing the operator to set the altitude and azimuth of the of the instrument so as to view the varied phenomena of the core, be they solar systems or the great Warp storm known as the Maelstrom. The walls of the great room were lined with shelves of books and many strange instruments of the Adeptus Mechanicus, the followers of the Machine God.

These sites would have been more than enough to occupy the mind of any normal boy for a good deal of time under normal circumstances. However, the young boy in white was not any normal boy and these were not normal circumstances. He was fixated upon the three figures in the room as he followed the tall man in front of him. The figure in the middle of the observatorium was obviously some servant of the Machine God as he wore a red robe which partly covered a long mechanical appendage extending from his back and a hood covered his head. Upon further inspection the young boy recognized him as Aarskog, the Genetor of Clan Ryu. The other two figures were off to one side. One was a young girl, dressed in white as was he, but with a hood pulled over her head. The other was a remarkably tall and elegant woman, also dressed in white and with a curved blade at her side like that of the man he was following. She was thin and long-limbed with long straight black hair fashioned into a bun that covered her ears. She shone like a Sun to him.

The tall man snapped around to face the boy and dropped to one knee. "Mikhel, listen to me carefully," he began. The man's face was calm and his third eye was gently closed, unlike the third eye of the boy to which he was speaking. The eye which the boy had clenched tightly closed in order to avoid being blinded by the light radiating from the third eye of the tall woman in white. "I do this for you and for our Clan. It is an honour for me to do this. Novator Terasu is an honourable woman and I expect that you will honour her regardless of what happens this day. If you do not honour her, you will dishonor me." Mikhel shrank from the thought of dishonouring his father.

The man waited for his words to sink into his son's mind before continuing. The boy was distraught for he had seen so much in the past ten standard days. His father, the man who knelt before him, had slain in ritual combat all of their clan whose Navigator gene had allowed their inner eye to open without trepanation. All save him. Those who remained had years ago received their trepanation at the hand of the Genetor standing in the middle of the observatorium, opening their third eye so as to be able to navigate the Warp. Slaying his cousins had changed his father who seemed to grow taller and faster with each life he took. The boy's father continued, "Mikhel, all our Clan is descended from the Ryu Clan. If I succeed today, their wealth and power will be ours. If I fail, you and the rest of our Clan will be drawn under the safety of the dragon's wings as a part of Clan Ryu. It will be an honour. If such happens, you can honour my memory by honouring Terasu." With that, he turned and strode toward the Genetor. Simultaneously, Terasu turned from the girl in white and strode smoothly toward the Genetor, like a serpent. Both Terasu and Mikhel's father kept their third eye closed as they neared Aarskog.

"Halt," boomed the command from the Genetor. Both Terasu and Mikhel's father instantly came to a stop. The Genetor's outstretched human hands held a sheathe with a dragon-headed hilt extending from it. His mechadendrite took the dragon's head and drew forth the blade. Mikhel's young eyes had never seen anything of its like before and his third eye was fixed upon the blade. Aarskog's mechadendrite turned the blade down and released it. The blade hung in the air, point down. "The finishing blow must be performed with _Mikazuki_ , the sorei of the great Clan Ryu," continued the Genetor. This confused Mikhel as he was always told the power blade his father wore was their sorei, the ancestral blade of the Marshal Clan and he assumed the power blade on Terasu's side was the sorei of Clan Ryu. But, his father's blade was nothing like this _Mikazuki_ and his third eye was drawn to its blade. Terasu and Mikhel's father bowed deeply to one another.

"All listen to me," commanded Aarskog's voice. "Focus on calming the Warp and becoming one." Mikhel began to do as he had been instructed. He focused upon the tumultuous Warp and forced it to calm in an ever expanding radius from him. He saw that the others did the same. The girl was strong, but not compared to his father. The strength which emanated from Terasu was terrible for Mikhel to behold. The four radii of power expanded and overlapped, with the eddies and currents of the Warp tapering into a stillness. Mikhel had never felt such peace, and he felt the others within it. He felt as one with his father, and with the young girl opposite him, and with the great power that was Terasu.

"Master Marshal. Mistress Ryu.," Aarskog said and paused. "Begin!" he shouted.

Suddenly, the two sprang into motion like the Warp lightnings Mikhel had seen while navigating the storms near the Maelstrom. Each drew Clan sorei and rapidly flowed into an attack. The Master sweeping low and across while the Mistress swept overhand and down. She swept the Master's blade down, with their power fields momentarily comingling and came up with a rapid backstroke he barely dodged by leaning back beyond the blade's arc. Moving fluidly he returned a brilliant overhand stroke only to have it batted away with her sorei through grace and speed. Each was testing the other's physical reflexes while their minds focused on continuing the calmness and the oneness of the Warp.

The two continued to move with speed and grace but began to take control of the envelope of the calmed Warp within which they fought. Lightning danced through the spaces between them and was batted away, sometimes with the blade held in held and sometimes with but a thought. There were blinding flashes of light followed by pure darkness. It was all poor Mikhel could do to remain in control, forcing his envelope of the Warp to remain calm, untouched by corrupting forces from without while mayhem was wrought from within.

Suddenly there was clarity and all within the Warp was calm. Mikhel's father was doubled over and transfixed by Terasu's sorei. His sorei lay on the ground. Terasu released her blade. Then, with speed so great Mikhel could barely follow her, she swept in a circle and took _Mikazuki_. Without the slightest pause in her motion, she continued into an overhand arc and decapitated his father, the Master of the Marshal Clan. Blood arced from his neck and lightnings danced through the envelope of stillness in the Warp. Mikhel thought he had seen something pass from his father's headless body through _Mikazuki_ and into Terasu. _Was that my father's soul?_ The thought danced in his head for a moment.

Mikhel closed all his eyes tightly, not able to bear the vision of his father's death in the Warp or in the spectrum of visible light. When he opened his eyes again, they stared into the almond shaped emerald eyes of Terasu, her beautiful face framed by her long black hair. She was crouched in front of him so that her great height would not tower over him. Her mouth began to move and her voice was soft, yet powerful. "Your father was a great and honourable man. I expect that you will do your best to honour his memory," she calmly stated. "You have great potential. You are barely a decade of standard years in age and can already traverse the dangers of the Warp in the vicinity of the Maelstrom."

Looking down, Mikhel saw that Terasu held the Marshal Clan's sheathed sorei horizontally in her two palms and was presenting it to him. He reached for it with his right hand, but heard the whisper of the girl in white at Terasu's side before he took it. _Both hands_ , she said in a barely audible whisper. Realizing his error of protocol, he took the blade with both hands and removed it from the open palms of Mistress Terasu.

"It will be an honour to serve," Mikhel stated and dropped to one knee before her.

Mistress Terasu, Novator of Clan Ryu, stood to her great height and towered over Mikhel, spattered in his father's blood, a smile on her lips.

 **Hopefully, this will be expanded into a larger story without too much delay**


	2. Chapter 2 Three Dragons

The young woman walked along the great crumbling wall. She was very short and with a thick body which still had noticeable curves beneath her long brown skirt and white linen top. From her white bonnet, a long braid of red hair trailed down on each side of her face. She was obviously one of the squats, or Duardin as they referred to themselves. Her hands clenched the haft of a small axe whose noticeable circuitry marked it as capable of producing a disruption field.

The woman came to a stop in front of a set of swinging double doors where countless people were coming and going. Their worn and cheap clothing marked them as residents of any number of the outlaw worlds bordering the Maelstrom. She looked up to an old man standing to the side of the entrance and spoke, "Excuse me sir, may I trouble you for some information?" The old man looked at her. Despite her menacing demeanor and armament, the young squat's face and smile radiated a warmth that turned his frown in a toothless grin.

"Wut?" he replied, trying to stand a little taller.

"Good sir, I was told I would find the entrance to the Glesia Starport Batten Annex here, but all I see is a hole in the wall entrance to a tavern," she said in a kind voice. With the end of the axe's haft she pointed to a sign which read "Cedric's Dive" as it hung sideways from a single chain attached to one end.

"Yer in the rat place. Cedric's is the entrance." He paused at the sign of her face lighting up. "You can get juiced on plenty of grog to dull yer senses 'fore riskin' flyin' outta thar."

"Thank you, good sir." She hastily walked through the swinging doors and into chaos. The room was crowded with off-worlders in all manner of dress. Servants danced around. There were doll-girls and doll-boys looking to ply their trade scattered throughout. She moved through the crowd and steered clear of a trio of tables seated with heavily tattooed men who were obviously raiders of some sort and then she froze at the sound of a voice.

"Aye, won't you talk to me little lassie?!" came a boisterous voice over the ruckus. A voice speaking in her tongue, that of the Duardin, a dialect of Low Gothic. "Who might you be?"

The young squat looked over to see a most unusual sight. An absolutely enormous and muscular man was sitting at the bar in front of her. He had an incredibly long and unkempt silver beard stretching down to beneath his waist. His hair was greyed and long and also completely unkempt. Clearly, he paid little attention to grooming. His facial features bore a remarkable resemblance to those of a squat. But, this was not the largest squat to have ever existed. His size and build marked him as an Adeptus Astartes, one of the Emperor's Angels of Death. Further inspection showed his bare arms exposed the most unusual of markings on his massive biceps. On his right, the word "Legion" was tattooed in Low Gothic in an upper arc and in a lower arc was tattooed the word "Astartes". Within the arcs, a great mark was branded. The brand consisted of Low Gothic numerals, an "I" followed by another "I". And a great hammer was propped against his stool, head to the ground. Runes were inlaid upon its surface and circuitry woven within it.

Surprised by this encounter, the young squat warmly and politely replied with a curtsy, made awkward by the axe she held. "My name is Dagny Asgersdottr." Then, after a moment's pause, she continued, "But, I really can't talk. I am in a bit of a hurry."

"Ha! She thinks she is in a hurry." The young squat stared in confusion as the Space Marine was speaking to an empty seat beside him. A seat which had a full mug sitting on the bar in front of it. He looked toward her for a moment and said, "Asgersdottr, you say? My friend is named Asger." Then he looked back toward the empty seat and continued, "Is she yer girl?" After a moment staring at the empty seat he turned back toward Dagny. "He doesn't speak much. Doesn't drink much either." With that, he picked up the full mug from the bar in front of the empty seat and downed it. "Where are we going?"

Hans abruptly ended his meditation. He knew this confusing vision was from the future, as so many of his visions were, and he also knew that it was important. Very important. After springing to his feet, Hans grabbed his sword. He knew his brothers must be informed quickly.

The young Navigator calmly took control of the vessel from the other Navigator at her side. The vessel was one of the smallest Warp capable voidcraft created by the Adeptus Mechanicus and quickly responded to its new master. The arcane helmet she wore enhanced her ability to sense the Warp, allowing her to more easily guide the voidcraft through its eddies and tides. The arcane circuitry completely enclosed her head while her long straight black hair cascaded out from under its bottom and fell over her back. A myriad of braided cables led from it to the control panel. The Navigator to her side wore a similar arcane device which enhanced his ability to sense the warp even more so but did not possess controls.

"Now, take us where you will, little Terasu," spoke the second Navigator from within his helm.

"That is Mistress Ryu to you, Nankin," replied a voice that could only belong to a very young girl. Her curt reply brought a chuckle that revealed a third Navigator seated behind the other two. He wore no helmet, leaving the Navigator's third eye in plain view on his forehead.

"Mistress Ryu, you have progressed fast and this is your final training," spoke the third Navigator from behind the other two. There was a hint of insolence in how he spoke her title. "But, this is most difficult and none have ever succeeded on their first attempt." He paused and then continued in a more fatherly voice that marked him as a master training a prized pupil, "We are at the edge of the Emperor's Light, the farthest reach of the Astronomicon. It will be most difficult to find. Stay calm. Focus. If you lose the Emperor's Light, Nankin will still have sight of it. He will direct you back to its Light."

When his words were completed, Terasu began guiding the voidcraft through the Warp. Then she paused and suddenly changed direction.

"Mistress Ryu, stop. Turn about. I beg you," came a frantic cry from Nankin. Terasu paid him no heed. Time passed and then he cried, "I have lost it. Where is the Light?" His panic was brought back to a measure of control when the third Navigator placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Silence. She is navigating by instinct. Do not question this," replied the third Navigator with a tone of awe.

With that, Terasu turned off the sensors filling her helmet yet continued to steer the vessel as if she knew where she were headed. As time passed, the third Navigator began to become nervous too and finally he said, "Mistress Ryu, I think it is best we turn back now."

"I see it ahead. It is still so far away, but I see it," she whispered.

"Please, Mistress Ryu." The worry had become very apparent in the master Navigator's voice.

With that, the young Navigator turned the voidcraft and began working back through the ripples and eddies of the Warp. After a long while, Nankin gave a sigh of relief and cried out, "I see it. I see the blessed Light of the Astronomicon."

Terasu moved slowly, as if in a trance. She removed the Navigation helmet, revealing almond shaped eyes that appeared to be glazed over and also revealing slight points to her ears, apparently a minor mutation caused by her prolonged exposure to the Warp. She handed the Navigation helmet to Nankin who then placed it upon his head after removing the Co-Navigator helm.

The third Navigator spoke to Nankin and commanded, "Return to the Clax system. Never speak of this."

Sebastian snapped out of his meditation. He knew this vision was from the past, as so many of his visions were, and he knew that it was important. Very important. That meant it would be connected to the past, the present, and the future. After springing to his feet, Sebastian grabbed his sword. Sebastian fastened its sheathe to his belt and stormed from his sanctum cubicle. He knew his brothers must be informed quickly.

William crouched behind the granite marker of the Teutonic burial mound, bolt pistol in one hand and rune etched sword in the other. He considered holstering his pistol, as he was out of ammunition, but decided the appearance of having it at his disposal to use might be an edge he would need. His armour was marred from countless battles with the greenskins over the past days but he knew its protections would mean little now. He took a deep breath and looked around the great marker to find his enemy.

The traitor was calmly striding toward him, bolt pistol and sword in hand. Blue and gold were the colours of his armour. Sans the white, the armour was not so different from that of William's comrades from their training chapter, the Ultramarines. But the ouroboros, a serpent biting its own tail, on the left shoulder pauldron marked the enemy for who he was: a traitor from the Thousand Sons.

"Step out, Brother William. I do not wish to slay you, I only hope to offer my help to your nascent and beleaguered chapter," he stated in a voice whose bewitching qualities had swayed countless others in the past. The word "chapter" was pronounced with noticeable scorn. "My name is Valus Majure and I have much to offer you, Brother." Valus emphasized the word "Brother"

William worried as to what trick the traitor was up to but welcomed the thought of closing ground and engaging the Son face to face. He felt the sorcerous power of the traitor's voice wash over him and fall off. William silently swore to himself he would never give in and fall for such tricks of the mind. He took one more deep breath and stood tall, prepared to meet his death with honour. "I am not your Brother. You are a traitor to the Emperor."

"Who is the true traitor? That is the question. Us or the false Emperor?" As the two slowly approached each other, William looked about. So many of the markers were overturned and so many of the burial mounds had been blasted open. The sudden Warp storms had heralded the arrival of the greenskins who had transformed Teuton into a graveyard. Now, with his ever dwindling number of Brothers scattered and fighting the Orks, the storms had returned and brought these traitors with them. The Thousand Sons. "Am I not your Brother?" the words stung William as the traitor uttered them. Valus paused his speech and the two prepared for battle, raising their swords. "You claim allegiance to your Emperor, but who is your gene Father? You know it is not the Father of the Ultramarines who have been training you to be the false Emperor's new little pets."

In anger and ferocity, William struck forth in a series of bloodthirsty blows. But, Valus flipped aside his blows despite their intensity. William immediately realized he was no match for a traitor who had thousands of years of experience with a sword in hand. A traitor that was armed with a powerful force blade created by the Dark Mechanicus while he was armed with all that remained of his personal weaponry, a ceremonial sword. "I will spit on your face after I remove the helmet from your corpse."

William's attempts to parry and counter the blows of Valus met an unexpected obstacle as the air itself seemed to harden and turn away his blade, again and again. Valus had even stopped trying to physically block William's blows and was merely standing there. "Where were your Ultramarine Brothers when the greenskins landed on your pretty world here? Where was the Emperor when the greenskins killed your friends and desecrated the tombs of your ancestors?" William had been reduced to giving his all to instinctively deflect the blows of the Warp that had begun striking at him as they passed through his armour. "I am your Brother, William. You can deflect my blows because you instinctively feel that the Warp is forming them, but you are untrained. Magnus is your gene father. That is why you can do this, your unnoticed and untapped powers." His blows had begun to land in succession upon William and were beginning to slow him down. "What will you do when the Flesh-Change takes you? It is our curse, but I can help you. The fools of the Adeptus Mechanicus who worship a bucket of bolts thought they could tamper with our geneseed and cleanse it of flaws." A great blast of air threw William to the ground. "The Space Wolves are now in orbit above us. I can feel them hunting me. To kill the greenskins as well as to kill me and my Brothers, they will exterminate life on this planet. Your Iron Dragons will be no more without having ever been anything. But, this has been planned all along. My Brothers and I will escape. Come with us. I can teach you much." The blows from the Warp ceased to strike William.

William stood, his mind trying to grasp the situation and looking for any means of victory. Sensing something which had been present all along but that he had not been able to focus on, he spoke. "Lars, I can feel you watching. You are our only hope for the Iron Dragons to forge onward and avenge our Brothers and our ancestors." William paused and struggled to rise into a crouch. "You must depart in secret." Valus watched him thoughtfully and paused his attacks.

Suddenly, William sprang forward. But, Valus' will sprang like a trap. Before William could close the distance, a blast of air threw him to the side on top of an open mound. Skeletal arms took hold of him, pinning him to the ground, and a black fire began to rage within his armour. His screams filled the air as he was consumed by the black Sorcerous fires of the Warp which raged at Valus' command.

Vallus looked up to the sky, trying to ascertain to whom William had communicated and spoke. "It will be a pleasure when I finally meet you, Lars. You think you will follow the path of the Emperor and chase me to bring about my ruin? You will fail as so many others have. But, as I offered William, so will I offer you the chance to avoid your fate of the Flesh-Change. I will be waiting." With those words, he turned and walked away.

Lars awoke from his meditation, fearful and angry. He knew his vision was from the present, as so many of his other visions were. The gravity of his vision shook him to his core. Lars sprang to his feet and grabbed his staff. The weapon bore a silver-gray winged serpent etched into its length as did the weapons of his Brothers. The visible runes and circuitry marked it as one of the rarest items produced by the followers of the Machine God, a force weapon like those borne by his Brothers. Lars stormed from his sanctum cubicle in the Librarium Minoris. He knew his Brothers must be informed immediately.

The Brothers appeared simultaneously in the corridors of the Librarium Minoris of Magna Macragge Civitas and faced each other, weapons ready and in hand. Their close cropped blonde hair was as identical as their faces and blue eyes and their massive and muscled forms appeared to be reflections too. The introduction of their geneseed had generated no distinctive features and they resembled each other as they had since birth. Each instantly recognized their brothers had received a vision. Brother Hans Engel, sword in hand, with a vision of the future as was the strength of his talent. Brother Sebastian Engel, sword in hand, a vision of the past as was the strength of his talent. And Brother Lars Engel, staff gripped firmly in his two hands with a vision of something that had transpired while he witnessed it as was the strength of his talent. Each instantly knew these three visions were intertwined and each knew he could depend on the other two to walk the path that had been laid before them.


	3. Chapter 3 The Warp and Weft of Fate

Librarium Minoris, Magna Macragge Civitas  
Segmentum Ultima, third century, M36

Lars and his brothers stared at each other in the corridor, still engrossed in telepathic communion after having shared their visions. _Brother William said that we must leave in secret or we are lost as a chapter_ , he began. _I felt the truth of his words as he spoke. He had the sight._ Lars did not add to his statement the blasphemous claims made by the Sorcerer Valus that he had just relayed in the telling of his vision. Once was enough.

 _Brother Marius has trained us beyond what we thought we were capable. He and his comrades here have treated us as their Brothers. Our Brothers have spilled blood together. Ours and that of our enemies_ , returned Sebastian. _How can we sneak out like thieves in the night and keep our honour?_

Lars quickly responded, _Perhaps we can lie. Tell them that we are required to return. Fabricate a reason. Would that be acceptable?_

 _Listen to what you are suggesting brother_ , interjected Hans. _First, would lying be any less dishonourable than sneaking? Second, do you honestly believe Brother Marius would not see through our deception?_

 _Point taken._ Lars thought for a moment and then continued. _Perhaps the truth then. Inform him we must leave immediately and in secret. Perhaps he will refrain from filing the official reports for a short period of time._

 _Ha_ , Sebastian chuckled. _Do you realize that you are suggesting we ask an Ultramarine who has risen to command the Librarium Minoris of Macragge City to deliberately withhold completing his reports and reporting information to his Battle Brothers in order to perpetrate a falsehood upon them? Shall I recite the records of how such things have been treated in the past?_

Hans added, _Any request to leave will most likely start a chain of events that will lead to us never leaving Macragge unchained. I feel that as surely as I feel the vision I witnessed was important and connected to this._ This last, made it obvious to Lars that he spoke with the confirmation of his sight.

Lars sighed. _It appears we are damned if we do and damned if we don't. However, if we flee in secret, our chapter may live again. Keep our honour to the detriment of our chapter and Brothers or compromise our honour for our chapter and others. I say we save our chapter and live to repay a debt of honour to the Ultramarines._

 _Agreed_ , his brothers replied in unison.

 _Regardless of what happens, remember what Father told us. We have always been the brothers Engel, brothers of blood before all else_ , added Sebastian Engel.

 _As we are now_ , continued Lars Engel.

 _And as we shall ever be, unto death and beyond_ , concluded Hans Engel.

 _So we swear_ , concluded the brothers in unison, repeating the oath they swore to each other in secret upon being accepted as aspirants into the nascent Adeptus Astartes chapter of the Iron Dragons.

Lars added to himself, _We have spoken that twice now and both times it has carried more weight in my soul than any oath we swore to the Emperor while being led by Chaplain Dovan._

The four women strolled briskly along the pedway amongst countless other travelers. All were long-limbed with long black hair and stunningly beautiful. Three wore green robes of the finest materials available in Macragge. The fourth wore green pants with a white linen blouse, and a broad white headband over her forehead. She wore a curved blade at her side and was by far the tallest of the four. Each had a pin on her chest of what many would have described as a winged serpent without knowing its meaning. It was the Golden Dragon, symbol of a mighty Navigator house, the Ryu Clan. As they walked, they bantered with each other in a variation of Gothic that few on Macragge would understand, the ancient dialect spoken aboard the Ryu clan void-ships.

"Have the Warp storms fully subsided, Kamiko?" asked the tallest of the three robed women. "I place little faith in the Navigators of the lesser houses in such conditions, especially if we are forced to journey onboard an Adeptus Mechanicus transport ship," she added with some distaste.

"There is no need to worry, Mayumi. We will not be making the passage onboard a vessel of the Adeptus Mechanicus, " calmly answered the one wearing a headband. "We will be traveling aboard the _Wind's Grace_ , flagship of the Clan Marshal. They won the contract from the Mechanicus for a reason. The Marshal Clan may be considered a lesser clan of our line, but Michel is both Commander and Navis Supreme of the _Wind's Grace_ , and he is one of the finest Navigators to have ever graced the Heavens. He was raised traversing the storms around the Maelstrom in the galactic core. These storms of the Warp we have been experiencing may be bringing much of the Imperium to a halt, but we will make haste to Glesia. From there, we will be taken to the _Tatsuo_ by one of our transports whose name has not been made known to me yet."

"So, Master Marshal is now Michel?" laughed another of the robed women. "You are familiar enough with him to be on a first name basis?" Her emphasis on the word "familiar" made the meaning clear to Kamiko. All three of the robed women intently focused on Kamiko, awaiting her response, as they continued into the long boarding lanes of the spaceport.

Kamiko changed to a more formal tone in her conversation. "Tomiko, I have known Master Marshal since he and I were mere children. I was present when Mistress Ryu defeated his father, then Master of the Marshal Clan, to bring them back within the Clan fold." She paused with a far-off look on her face as if remembering the event. "His service has been exemplary since."

"You were Mistress Ryu's second when but a child?" Tomiko asked in apparent shock. "I have heard tale of your strength, but you were her second?"

"Perhaps you can give us the details of Michel's exemplary services performed," added the third robed woman in a suggestive voice, emphasizing his name.

"Enough, Sora!" snapped Kamiko. The other robed women laughed. Kamiko stared intently at them before giving a flabbergasted sigh and continuing in silence, ignoring the continued jeers of her companions.

"Don't look now, Kamiko, but I believe we are being followed," whispered Sora. Kamiko did not look. She had already noticed.

Lars and his brothers marched intently along the spaceport pedway in their armour, helmets tucked under their arms. While marching, Lars replayed their actions in his head. Pooling their knowledge of the spaceport's schedule, Hans had recalled that a void-craft had arrived from the forge world of Konor and would be departing for Glesia within the day. From Glesia it would be a short voyage to Teuton. They had previously concluded that gaining access to the records of the Librarium Minoris to obtain information regarding landing craft would be too great a risk to take. After concluding time constraints outweighed what could be gained through planning, they had elected to pursue their goal and overcome obstacles as they appeared. Lars had recalled the pedway they were currently traversing led to a station with an access tunnel to the loading bays. From there, they planned to determine which vessel in orbit was bound for Glesia, which landers would be leaving for the orbiting vessel, and stow away on board. His brothers had laughed nervously when Lars pointed out they merely had to accomplish this unnoticed while wondering the spaceport in their power armour. _Armour or not, it should be no more difficult than ghosting through the woods of Teuton_ , he thought.

The brothers fell in line with a number of walkers on the pedway as if nothing were amiss. Sebastian telepathically asked his brothers, N _otice the four women in front of us?_ He continued, _They speak in the same dialect as the young Navigator, Mistress Ryu, in my vision. All our visions are tied together. These women are part of this._

 _I noticed the dragon pins_ , replied Hans. Then, in frustration, _The pins appear familiar but_ _I am unable to recall the information. The hypno-conditioning…We have been impressed with so much knowledge…_

 _I noticed…_ Lars telepathically began and then stepped forward and spoke, "Excuse me, ladies. May I ask a question of you?" Hans and Sebastian echoed telepathic emotions of astonishment in his head that he would be so forward.

The tall woman in robes to which he spoke, looked up, a bit surprised. She quickly stopped and offered a small curtsy, then spoke with her peculiar accent, "Why yes, what do you wish to ask of me?" The other two robed women looked on in puzzlement, while the one wearing a band on her head stood with her hand on the throat of her scabbard and observed intently.

Lars was taken aback, although he was careful not to display his surprise. The residents of Ultramar did not have fear of the Emperor's Angels of Death, the Adeptus Astartes, as they did elsewhere in the Imperium. They had respect instead. Still, such casualness was not to be expected. These four women appeared intent upon dealing with him and his brothers casually and it signaled their origins as far different than any others they had ever encountered.

"I noticed the dragons on your pins, and thought I might ask of what it signifies?" Lars asked, searching for something to say.

"We are of the Great Clan Ryu, one of the most honoured Navigator Houses in the Imperium. The Golden Dragon is our clan symbol," the tall robed woman politely replied. "You may call me Mayumi." Lars had been told hubris was common amongst the nobles of the Imperium but was shocked at the amount displayed by the members of this Navigator House. "You are of the Iron Dragons?" She sounded excited as if the Iron Dragons held an interest for her above other chapters.

With a question asked, and nothing else to say, Lars replied. "Yes, I am Epistolary Lars. These are my brothers, Epistolary Hans and Epistolary Sebastian of the Iron Dragons First Company.

"First Company?" asked the tall woman wearing a headband in a skeptical tone underneath her accent.

Lars laughed. "I have no hubris. First by default. We are in the midst of our founding. We do not yet have enough Battle Brothers to fill out one entire company, much less an entire chapter." That had been true before his vision not even an hour prior and it pained Lars to speak so, knowing how true it now was. Lars felt his brothers doing their best to hide their surprise at his candor speaking to these four strangers. Somehow, it felt appropriate to him

Still peering skeptically at Lars and his brothers standing in their power armour, the tall and armed woman wearing a headband added, "I assumed you would be questioning us regarding the arrival and departure of the _Wind's Grace_ , not our pins."

Apparently unable to control herself, Mayumi blurted out, "Yes, it will be carrying the latest shipment of your war gear from the Konor forge world to Teuton. Artisans and planners from our Clan were tasked with oversight of the construction of your fortress monastery and were sent here for training. They will be boarding the _Wind's Grace_ today. So will we." The armed woman shot an angry glance Mayumi failed to notice.

"Your information is most appreciated, but we have no interest in the _Wind's Grace_ ," added Hans.

"None, none at all," laughed Sebastian. Lars noticed the woman in a headband fully turned her attention to his laugh, but only for a moment.

Lars eyed his brothers warily, then responded to Mayumi. "Thank you. I appreciate your prompt reply. If there is anything we may ever do for you in the future, do not be afraid to ask."

With that, the brothers walked off the pedway toward a side tunnel as the four women curiously looked at them.

Sebastian broke the telepathic silence. _I believe that lays to rest any questions Brother Marius had regarding the effectiveness of our hypno-conditioning._

Lars responded with, _I don't believe that is correct regarding our being unable to recall the specifics of the Ryu Clan. I do not believe we were exposed to that information._

Lars' brothers laughed aloud at him and Sebastian added, _I was not referring to Hans. I was referring to how you looked at that young lady._ Lars felt his brothers' amusement pass through their telepathic connection and then Sebastian continued, _If there is anything we may ever do for you in the future, do not be afraid to ask._ The amusement continued to filter to Lars from his brothers. Eventually their amusement settled and they walked in silence, telepathic and otherwise.

The silence continued until it was broken by Hans. _Now I remember about the Golden Dragon_ ,interjected Hans into the thoughts of Lars and his other brother. _I once had a conversation with Apothecary Ansgar and Genetor Aarskog. The Genetor had mused that either our Teutonic blood made us extremely hard-headed or our geneseed rendered us not fully receptive to hypno-conditioning. Ansgar later said the Genetor did not believe the two were mutually exclusive. I thought he was joking. Now, I am not so certain._ Lars and Sebastian looked to Hans, awaiting him to make the connection with the Golden Dragon pin. Realizing his error, Hans continued, _Genetor Aarskog is the Genetor responsible for the Navigator lineage of Clan Ryu as well as being one of the Genetors assigned to monitor our geneseed._

The brothers continued down the side tunnel in silence. Lars grew both angry and depressed as the thought of Apothecary Ansgar had reminded him again that they may be the only three Iron Dragons left alive. His thoughts were interrupted when Hans stopped suddenly and spoke. "At least three of those women will die on Glesia unless we stop it."

"Events of great import are unfolding rapidly," Lars began. "These Warp storms. Unrest in the Imperium and Vandire's methods to quell them are being referred to as the Reign of Blood. So many visions, some overpowering and others just vague feelings. My head is swimming with them. We must keep our wits about us and remain focused." His brothers nodded.

From that point on, Hans and Sebastian kept their full attention upon their surroundings. Lars tuned his psychic senses to the astropathic choirs of Macragge City's spaceport and sought word of the _Wind's Grace._ Once word of the Wind's Grace had been found, it was a simple manner for the brothers to move through the complex unseen and unhindered to the cargo lander sent from the vessel to ferry passengers from the surface back into orbit.

Having secured themselves into the cargo lander, they prepared for the voyage into orbit and then the log trek to Glesia. It had only been a small matter for Sebastian to ask questions of one of the labourers and then excise their presence from his memory after boarding the empty lander. Hans had suggested they wait in their armour as if part of the cargo from Konor that had remained aboard and came down with it from the _Wind's Grace_. They had calmly and silently stood as the retainers of Clan Ryu dumped their travel gear and stared in awe at the three suits of Mark VII power armour, bearing the livery of the Iron Dragons, which they were sharing a ride with. Finally, the great lander was cleared and left the spaceport. The brothers began taking turns listening for telltale signs amongst the telepathic chatter that their absence had been discovered as they drifted into near hibernation. While the brothers slept, the lander rejoined the _Wind's Grace_ and the journey to Glesia began.

 **It took me a little longer than I intended and this bit is a little longer too. The action should pick up again next chapter but I felt i needed to get in some info.**


	4. Chapter 4 A Thread of Iron

Industrial Zone 0267  
Industrial world of Garetius Secundus, Garetian Sector  
Segmentum Ultima, third century, M36

The horde of gretchin pressed against the short wall and began trying to cross it. Everywhere their unarmoured green skins and short bodies were met with knives and axes. The squats were dour in their manner as they faced the never ending onslaught. They had long since emptied their magazines trying to kill all the runtherds who drove the gretchin onward and were now forced to chop and hack at the horde. Still the gretchin kept coming.

"Watch yerselves!" screamed one of the squats, obviously a leader of some sort. "Keep choppin' and throw their bodies back on top of 'em." He and the other squats were not heavily armoured and it was apparent war had come upon them while attending other duties. But, they still had their axes and laser torches. They were squats and gretchin were greenskins. Orkoids. Nothing made the squats fight harder or with more fury. But, it wasn't enough.

Suddenly, an enormous boot stepped atop the wall beside the squat leader. But, the squat did not falter from surprise in his hacking of the enemy. He took heart instead. The boot was attached to an enormous cybernetic leg encased in armour. Atop that leg was a massive body encased in rust coloured power armour with several mechanical arms extruding from its back. A winged dragon was on one shoulder pauldron coloured in silver in grey. The other pauldron bore the skull and cog motif, the _Machina Opus_ of the Adeptus Mechanicus. In the giant's hands was a great bolt gun with a belt of ammunition feeding from its back. Death rained down upon the gretchin as 0.998 calibre bolts began firing from the gun. Where the squats could only barely hold the line against the horde, it broke before the space marine. A runtherder tried in vain to turn its troops but the rain of bolts turned the slave driver and all the gretchin around it into a mist of blood and bone and flesh. Others tried to turn troops too, but to no avail. They were trampled. Still the gun continued firing and the gretchin continued running. In their wake was left a field littered with corpses.

Finally, the space marine ceased firing and the line of squats erupted in applause. Their leader looked up at the space marine and spoke. "Took ya long enough, Ekkehart, you legless box o' bolts."

A great laugh boomed through the armour's vox. "Well met, Merten Gunterson." Most soldiers of the Imperium would have wet themselves at facing one of the Emperor's Angels of Death. Not so for the squats. Words that would have been considered an ungrateful insult from another were recognized as a hearty thank you by Ekkehart. "It was important I finished something on the _Iratus Rex_. Come." With that last word, he turned and walked away.

Merten followed as quickly as his short legs would carry him, and his legs carried him to the hulking mechanical form of the _Iratus Rex_. The fallen Warlord-class titan was sitting upright on the ground as if it had just raised up from sleep, just as it had set since it was damaged while destroying the last gargant, the orks' version of a titan, that they had assembled and sent into battle. The _Iratus Rex_ was one of a handful of titans of the _Legio Crucius_ that remained on planet. Merten followed the space marine onto what amounted to the war machine's hips and to a great open cavity with heavy wires and cables streaming out.

As Ekkehart began digging though the gear, Merten looked back over his shoulder and did not like what he saw. "Flyers!" he yelled, as if Ekkehart, who was standing next to him, would not hear otherwise. Merten did a double take at the lead flyer. After many years of battling orks, they had never ceased to surprise him. The vehicle was no ordinary aeronautica. It was a red flying farm tractor with an enormous cannon mounted to its nose. The tractor was pulling a great disc harrow that was vertically arranged, instead of horizontally, and apparently supplying lift for the flyer. It could not possibly fly, and yet it was. The squat glanced back to see Ekkehart arise, holding a small box that had cables draped from it going back into the cavity. The box had some sort of handle and a single button on it.

Suddenly one of the great limbs of the _Rex_ began to move. The entire limb was a macro-gatling blaster and it moved as Ekkehart tilted and turned the handle of the box. Suddenly the sound was deafening and Merten fell to his knees six barreled rotary gun began firing into the sky. As Ekkehart adjusted the control in his hand, the limb moved until its line of fire caught the flyer and annihilated it. Merten wanted to laugh with joy but he was in too much pain from his damaged ears.

When the firing ceased, he managed to pull a set of noise reducers from his pack and rise from his knees. Merten looked across the sky to see many more flyers on their way. "More are coming!" he screamed, unaware how loudly he was talking. When Ekkehart didn't answer and the titan's arm didn't move, Merten took his eyes off the sky to see what was holding up his giant comrade. Strangely, the space marine seemed to be staring off into a point of sky where the squat could see nothing but haze. Then, Merten noticed the box. While pretending to be obliviously looking away, the space marine was holding the box out for Merten to take. The squat took the box and cradled it like a baby. Then, a look of concentration grew upon his face as he began to move the arm with his control box. He pushed the button and the rotary gun came to life. A smile like that of a child grew on Merten's face and he began erasing the flyers from the sky.

"I can't believe he let you up on the body of the avatar of his Machine God," said the squat to Merten as he lifted up a mug of ale. The two sat in a small cubicle of their compound with a cask of ale on the counter.

"Wat ya say, Maarku!?" yelled Merten back at the other squat. He raised a mug of ale in his hand and finished it.

"Never mind!" yelled Maarku back at Merten.

"I can't believe he let me up on da _Rex_!" responded Merten, still yelling. Maarku laughed at his friend's loss of hearing. He raised his mug to Merten as a toast and took a long drink. Maarku then took Merten's mug and began filling it for him. Afterward, he began filling his own mug as Merten began to yell again without realizing it. "It is a shame 'bot those follers o' the Omnissiah. Dey are stupid. Dey preen and spout mumbo jumbo but have no real idea what dey are doin'. Not like us Duardin engineers…" Merten's voice trailed off as he recognized the change in expression of Maarku's face. "Ekkehart's 'hind me, isn't he?" Maarku nodded.

Merten looked over his shoulder with worry on his face. Ekkehart, who had removed his helmet, had his eyes hidden behind dark glasses and there was no emotion on his face. Suddenly he broke out in a laugh and put a data slate on the table. A small cable connected it to Ekkehart's armour. "Did I scare you?" he asked. The words flashed upon the surface of the dataslate's vid screen as he spoke. Merten read the slate and shook his head no, eliciting another laugh from Ekkehart. "You are right, " he continued and the dataslate continued to display his words. "They are fools and crazy. I can keep my mind occupied tinkering with the machines of war but I would go crazy if I had to deal with them on a regular basis instead of you guys. Even when I work out the solution, I have to keep my mouth shut. At least you understand the concepts instead of repeating gibberish." He took a deep breath.

"Well, sit down and have a drink wit us, " suggested Merten.

"I'm fine standing. These cybernetic legs never tire." Then, he added, "Why would I drink, it does nothing for me with my internal machinery."

"You can tell us 'bout yerself and yer Brothers and yer family. It is always 'portant to remember 'em," Maarku added. "Even if yer metal liver doesn't let ya feel the drink, you will still recognize its taste. Then, fer years to come, you'll member the stories ya told while tastin' it every time you recognize that taste again in the future."

"Wise words," replied Ekkehart as he took a freshly poured mug of ale from Maarku's outstretched hands.

"Well, are ya ever gonna tell us whut happened to yer legs?" blurted out Merten. Squats had never been known for skirting around a topic under ideal conditions, much less when they were drunk, which was a good deal of the time.

After a moment's pause, Ekkehart spoke. "I was young and stupid. Well, I'm not sure if I should speak like that is no longer the case, " he added with a small laugh. "I was among the first score of my people from Teuton to receive the Iron Dragons geneseed. The Ultramarines tested us hard and were not forgiving. While scouting a course, under orders of silence, I stepped into a great metal trap that had been placed by our Sergeant and it clamped down upon my leg. But, I was too hard-headed to stop and dragged it along behind me, still attached to my thigh. Then I stepped onto a second trap with my other leg." He paused for a moment before continuing. "Sergeant Ullis told me that I should have called to my Brothers for help and that if I had, the apothecaries could have saved my legs. But, I was young and hard-headed, and intended to keep the order of silence. So, I lay on my belly and dragged myself to the apothecary tent."

After pausing one more time, Ekkehart continued again. "They couldn't save my legs and decided to make me the first techmarine of our chapter. The _Mechanicus Implants_ of the Machine God were wed to my spine and special reinforcements were added to my hips. Then, these cybernetic legs were mechanically adjoined to my implants. The tech-priests told me I was three quarters of a dreadnought, although I had no idea what that meant at the time." Ekkehart laughed again and downed the mug of ale Maarku had given him. "I was sent to the forge world, Ryza. Then, I had to study. They also gave me all sorts of conditioning to seal me to their Machine God. I don't think it worked. It was all I could do to not laugh at them. Somehow, I managed to study and I learned how to maintain and repair my war gear and the titans and a whole lot more." Ekkehart then removed his dark glasses and his grey eyes met those of Merten. "I suppose you have managed to make all the copies of the _Rex_ 's schematics that I have asked for?"

Merten nodded yes, suddenly worried that the space marine might know that he had made copies for himself too. His engineering corps, that he had inherited from his father after years serving an apprenticeship, would become the greatest engineering corps in the galaxy now. Ekkehart's voice interrupted Merten's thoughts. "I will build one of these one day. Perhaps you can use your copies to help me?"

The squat tried to hold in his surprise. "If we ever get off dis fersaken hole, then I would consider it an honour," answered Merten. "When these Warp storms subside, me and my fellas will be able to conclude our business here. We signed a contract to gather construction material here for the Ryu Navigator Clan. Millions of metres of communications cable. Switchgear. Lighting fixtures. Piping and manifolds. Something big. The Marshal Clan, a subclan of the Ryu, is sendin' a Galaxy-class transport to pick us up and take us to Glesia afore we go further. So, we'll be rat near Teuton.

"Excellent," answered Ekkehart. "Magos Alcine, working around the zones on the other titans, informed me that I would be returning to Teuton via a Galaxy-class transport as soon as it arrived. It appears we will be venturing back toward the Maelstrom together.


End file.
